Chapter 26
Maeve finally returned home late the next morning sore, rumpled, and with a smile on her face that wouldn’t abate. Although she’d only just parted from Soren—after sharing an inordinate number of kisses and taking a ridiculous amount of time to finally part—she already wished to be with him again.
A bath, fresh clothes, some breakfast, and then she was determined to meet with him again at his cabin. There was much to decide, so many plans she wanted to discuss with him.
Maeve had only really imagined a future with a partner once before; she and Padraic had made so many plans together, spinning fairy tales out of promises and intentions.
Much of it had been about how to advance their careers as quickly as possible, and Maeve had spent many heady nights tipsy on wine, dreaming about how she and Padraic would conquer this university or that ministry.
She still bore the drive and ambitions at the center of those dreams—but now, Maeve thought about it a little differently.
It wasn’t just about what she could achieve but what she could do.
Perhaps her future was to lead a civil ministry.
Perhaps it was to travel with Soren and see many amazing things.
Perhaps it would all lead them back here.
Maybe it was all of that or none of it—and Maeve couldn’t wait to find out.
Having someone beside her for the journey was a comfort and a thrill all at once. Somehow, she already knew whatever experiences she had would be all the better shared with him.
Maeve walked into her childhood home ready to meet the future, with him.
But before she could climb the stairs to her room, a glance into the kitchen revealed that a few things from the past still needed tidying up.
Sorcha sat by herself at the table there, head held in her hands as she frowned down at a monstrous ledger. Maeve had seen the thing before—thick and leather-bound, it was the master ledger for the stables and estate.
Her sister glared at the thing, and it took Maeve clearing her throat to garner Sorcha’s attention.
“Oh!” Straightening, Sorcha looked at her in surprise before a puff of relief had her shoulders sagging. “Oh, Maeve, thank goodness. We didn’t know where you were!”
“I’m sorry to worry you,” Maeve apologized, tentatively coming further into the room.
Sorcha smiled tiredly, pushing the chair beside her out and patting the seat. Once Maeve sat and snagged one of the pastries left under a glass lid, it was her turn to be surprised when Sorcha took her hand.
“I didn’t mean to drive you away,” she said, her concern palpable. “It was dark and we didn’t know where you’d gone.”
“It wasn’t the most mature thing to do,” Maeve said sheepishly, relating to Sorcha how she’d ended up at Aunt Sofie’s door, as well as the whirlwind events of yesterday afternoon.
Already she and Soren were having new experiences together.
Well, he’d slept rough outside before; Maeve had only ever camped when she was younger, and it was always with the comfort of a large tent and thick bedroll.
To sleep with him under the stars, blanketed by his wing, had been a magical experience—even if she’d woken with a crick in her neck.
A slow smile spread on Sorcha’s lips as she listened to Maeve recount the afternoon.
“So you and Soren are…?”
Maeve nodded, fighting back the worst of her blush.
“We’re going to try.” She hadn’t believed she’d ever think or feel this way about anyone, especially after Padriac, but in Soren, she knew there was something more, something worth keeping.
It was more than the mate-pull he felt; she loved that he not only accepted but admired the things about her that she or others disliked.
For whatever reason, that quiet, kind lion-man enjoyed her company and wanted to be with her, even if it meant parting from his own family.
To have such devotion, such genuine love…
Maeve was still trying to wrap her mind around it.
Being the keeper of such feelings gave her a rush of power—and if she’d been someone else, even a younger version of herself, she might not have appreciated it, possibly even used that power badly.
But the Maeve that sat beside her sister now knew just what she held—the heart and love of a good man, one she always wanted to do right by.
Sorcha squeezed Maeve’s hand. “I’m so happy for you. Both of you.” Grinning fondly, she was unable to help imparting some sisterly wisdom. “Just try your best for each other every day. That’s all you can do. Choose each other and never take each other for granted.”
Maeve nearly squirmed from the gooey affection Sorcha clearly had for her orc husband. Even when he wasn’t in the room, he was right there beside her, foremost in her thoughts.
And, well, to be fair…that’s right where Soren was in Maeve’s.
Fates, I really do love that manticore. What a strange, wonderful feeling. Like she could run to Dundúran and back in a single breath but really only wanted to run right to him.
“Well, then, it sounds like the other night was for nothing really,” Sorcha said, looking embarrassed.
“I wouldn’t say that. I think Soren and I both needed a push.”
Although Sorcha nodded, her expression remained troubled. “I suppose…some things needed to be said.”
Maeve’s guts twisted with nerves. “They did. I’m sorry they were said in anger.”
“So am I.” For a long moment, Sorcha looked down at her hands, folded on the open ledger.
Maeve gave her the time and space, sensing her sister had more she needed to say.
“I don’t think you’re wrong, Maeve. Much of what you said I did…
” Sorcha rubbed her cheek as though the words pained or embarrassed her.
“I’ve been talking about much the same things with Orek. Trying to do better—for myself.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Maeve, honestly shocked to hear Sorcha say so. “I know you love it here and training horses. If that’s what you want to do, then wonderful, I just don’t want you to think you have to.”
“I understand that now. I have to do it for myself. Build the life I want.” Grinning in a way that made her many freckles dance, Sorcha said, “Living in my own house has definitely helped. But mostly, it’s having Orek beside me. With him I…I can be whoever I need to be.”
Sorcha’s words settled deep inside Maeve’s heart. She rubbed at her chest, right above where they’d hooked her. Be whoever I need to be.
Fates, she absolutely wouldn’t cry again. Wiping quickly at her eyes, Maeve said, “I love him for that.”
“So do I. And that’s what I hope for you, too, Maeve.” Reaching out again, she took Maeve’s hands in her own.
Despite their differences, everything that’d been said, Sorcha had always been and would always be Maeve’s older sister.
No matter how old they might grow, there was comfort in having her hands held by her sister, the one who’d taught her, protected her, raised her.
Maeve may have wanted to be different from Sorcha and every other Brádaigh, but much of the reason she had the freedom to try was because Sorcha bore so much for their family.
“It’s early days, but…” Maeve grinned. “I think I have.”
“Good. That’s all I want for you, for all of you.” Sorcha’s smile faded, her gaze turning pensive. “We all want to know you better, Maeve. I certainly do. Especially this new young woman you’re becoming.”
Maeve’s throat drew tight, and she tried to clear it and another threat of tears away. “Even though I’ve wanted to leave—still want to some day—that doesn’t mean I don’t love you and the family.”
“I know that,” said Sorcha. “I haven’t always understood you, Maeve. There were many times I didn’t like you much, either. But I have always and will always love you. I hope now, with the both of us growing, we can be better sisters.”
“You’ve always been a good sister,” Maeve said, forcing a laugh and looking anywhere but at Sorcha.
“I think I’ve tried to be a parent,” admitted Sorcha. “Whether it was right or wrong, I felt I had to. But I’d like to be friends and sisters now.”
Maeve almost jumped in her seat to feel Sorcha’s gentle touch on her cheek. Her sister wiped away the tears Maeve couldn’t keep back.
“Oh, Maeve,” Sorcha laughed, her own eyes welling with tears, “don’t cry. You weren’t that awful.”
A mad sound, between a laugh and a sob, burst from Maeve’s lips, and she threw her arms around Sorcha’s neck. Her sister hugged her tight, rocking them back and forth as they both wept.
Maeve still hated crying, but even she had to admit, these tears cleansed something that’d always felt tarnished inside her. Not much could be solved or healed in a day, but just to start was its own kind of relief. A weight lifted from her shoulders, a band from around her chest.
It was the first time in…years she’d embraced her sister, her family like this. Maeve was ashamed of it, but in that shame, she promised herself that it wouldn’t continue like that. She didn’t have to be at odds with Sorcha or their mother. If they accepted her, then she could do the same.
“I’d like a sister and a friend,” Maeve sobbed more than said. In her time back at home, she realized that she had precious few of either, and that they shouldn’t be taken for granted.
“Excellent,” Sorcha sob-laughed. Leaning back, she wiped Maeve’s tears, and so Maeve wiped Sorcha’s, sending them into a fit of giggles. “When you’re ready, why don’t you bring Soren to dinner at our house. Just me and Orek.”
“I’d like that.” Even though he was from his own large family, Soren didn’t need to be thrown into the Brádaigh fray all at once.
Once their tears were dry and their hearts much lighter, they shared another laugh and one of their mother’s blueberry scones.
Sorcha wanted to hear all about her confession to Soren, and so Maeve indulged her, editing out the bits that her elder sister absolutely didn’t need to hear—even if she was positive Sorcha and Orek had gotten up to much the same themselves.